


Pictures

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [77]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: Warnings: none, other than references to the big scene





	Pictures

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none, other than references to the big scene

"Beautiful," Antony murmurs, taking one shot after another, Stephen's bruises showing up perfectly against the crisp white of the sheets they're using for a background. He stands on the couch, the coffee table pushed out of the way, making sure he gets every angle, every shadow, documents every change of every colour and shade.

Stephen's a little less emotional than earlier, he's happy to be distracted like this, sprawled on the sheet, turning himself so his Sir can record all his marks, all the damage to his body. He's still subdued, which is hardly surprising, but his focus is less on each ache and pain, and firmly back on his Sir - a retreat to head space. "We should do this every day for the next week," Stephen offers, reaching to readjust his collar so it sits properly at his throat. "Show them changing colour." 

"Yeah, we should," Antony agrees, stepping back down onto the floor. He crouches between Stephen's thighs, getting a close-up of the A he carved in his boy's skin. "Have a whole series."

"Maybe you can have one printed? For our bedroom?" Stephen lifts his head and peers down at the patch of skin his Sir is concentrating on. The mark is tender, but clean, and healing well. "Will it scar?"

Antony shakes his head, dropping the camera for a moment. "I was careful," he assures Stephen.

His eyes cut up to his Sir's face. "But..." he shuts his mouth and frowns before continuing. "...maybe another time then?"

"You want it to be permanent?" Antony asks, surprised.

"If you'd asked me before...I would have said no...but now?" Stephen trails off, wondering if it's residual subspace talking, if he should really be making these suggestions when he knows he's not really come up fully from the scene yet - when he's still so heavily marked.

Antony sets the camera aside and leans forward, hands braced above Stephen's shoulders. "When you're better - completely healed - we'll talk about it," he promises, eyes locked on his lover's.

Stephen holds that intense gaze for the space of a breath, then he blinks, and keeps his lids lowered. "Yes Sir," he murmurs obediently.

Gazing down at Stephen, Antony pushes back a little, eyes tracing every single mark. He drops his head, tongue flicking over a nipple, his cock - already full - filling even further, straining at his zipper.

Stephen can almost feel the scrutiny, like a barely there breath on his skin. He shifts a little when Antony's tongue teases him, his lips parting on a soft sound, his fingers curl into his fists and he takes a breath, holding still, waiting for his Sir's next move.

Antony slowly draws back, a path of kisses left on Stephen's skin, the last a breath away from his cock. His newly pierced cock. Christ. Antony sits back on his heels and picks the camera up once more, taking a close up of that silver ring. "How's it feel now?"

"Sore," Bruised, tender. Stephen opens his eyes, watches as his lover admires him, it still sits uncomfortably to have his Sir, his lover look at him with such obvious pleasure. "Am I still beautiful to you?" The question catches even himself out of left field, his current mental state bypassing any and all internal filters.

The camera gets lowered again and Antony stares at Stephen for a moment before responding. "You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life and I thank the fucking gods every day you're mine."

He holds his Sir's gaze for as long as he can, which isn't very long at all, then Stephen moves, curling in on himself just a little, a hint of his discomfort. "I was always yours, always destined to be yours." The words are murmured softly, and Stephen's hand comes up to pet his collar, as if seeking reassurance.

"Yes, you were," Antony agrees, moving to lie beside Stephen. "Here. Shift in. We'll take a couple of selfies," he says with a grin.

Amused, delighted, Stephen does his best to smile up at the camera, his mouth twisted around the swellings, his fingers seek out Antony, his Sir's touch both grounding and soothing.

Antony takes a few shots, the fingers of his free hand linked with Stephen's, their bodies pressed close. "We need to get someone to take some pictures of us together," he says, kissing Stephen softly, a mere brush of lips, not wanting to hurt him. Not anymore, right now.

"We will," Stephen points out, his heart fluttering at the thought. "Less than three weeks from now, we'll have pictures of us, pictures of our families all together."

"And those'll be fantastic," Antony says, eyes crinkling, "but I want pictures like this, you and me, wrapped around each other, naked."

"But when I look..." It's not a stumble, so much as a conscious decision to use the word his Sir would like him to. "..beautiful again, not broken?" 

"You look beautiful now," Antony says, _insists_ , "but yes, when you're healed. We'll get someone from Citadel when we get back. Have them do a whole series - if you're okay with that?"

"Yes of course," Stephen nods, he turns, slowly, with barely a noise onto his side, his fingers seeking out the fur over his Sir's chest. "Whatever you want." 

"I don't think I realized just how hard it was going to be to keep my hands off you," Antony confesses with a chuckle, his cock aching, his balls so fucking full.

Stephen's gaze cuts up from where he's rubbing chest hair with the pads of his fingers, he huffs out an amused noise. "So don't, I know it's not what you want, but I'd find it hot if you were to jerk off over me, make my skin smell of your sex again, besides, I love being able to watch you when I'm not lost in my own head space, I don't get to have that very often,"

"Yeah?" Antony grins at that. But he doesn't even wait for an answer before he's kneeling up again, beside Stephen, his jeans unzipped and his cock pulled out.

Returning to his previous position, on his back, Stephen gaze is very firmly fixed on that long, thick organ, already hard, already damp at the tip. Despite the damage his body has sustained, Stephen's cock twitches and fills in empathy - the first erection he's had since he was pierced.

"You like watching me like this?" Antony says, wrapping his hand around his swollen flesh and slowly stroking, his eyes on his boy, his lover's bruised and battered body and that cock that's slowly filling, the piercing jerking with each pulse of blood.

"I love watching you when you're aroused, when you're allowing yourself to get lost in your pleasure - your guards come down, I get to see a you no one else has," Stephen reaches up to tug the denim of Antony's jeans down a little more, so he can caress the protuberance of one hipbone.

Antony groans at the touch and he gives himself a squeeze, precome welling at his cock's tip. A perfect fucking drop.

Clawing up his fingers the next touch is distinctly not gentle, he presses his nails into that thin veil of flesh, offering his lover and Sir a kiss of pain. "That's it, I want it all Sir, I want it on my skin, mark your boy, make him the object of your pleasure."

"Fuck," Antony breathes, a quick shudder running through him, his cock kicking up in his grip. "I'm gonna fucking paint you with it, boy."

Stephen keeps up that hint of pain, scratching back and forth, and with his free hand he trails his fingertips over his own cock, semi hard now, the flesh thickening, he's only teasing, both himself and his Sir, after all he doesn't have permission for more.

"You'd better be careful there," Antony says, nodding towards Stephen's cock, hand moving smoothly over his own erection, its path slicked with precome. "Brand new piercing..." And they both know they're supposed to be waiting. Although really, only tugging on it was put off-limits. Christ. Antony hisses in a breath, his balls drawing up tight, roughens his strokes.

"Just teasing..." Stephen returns, his gaze locked firmly on Antony's face, "I don't have permission anyway," he points, out, his skin flushing beneath the bruising. "I'm a good boy, a good pig for my Sir and Master."

"Yes, you are," Antony nods, soft curses spilling from his lips as he jerks his cock even harder. "Close..."

"Give it to me, give me what I earned, my Sir's mark...give it to me," Stephen's voice is low but demanding, unusually so. "Look what I took for you, look how much you broke your boy, he took it all to please you."

That's it. Antony’s done for. He goes over with a rough grunt, cock spurting hot and thick, spattering his boy's throat and chest and belly. Christ.

Stephen exhales as the first drops hit his skin. When he breathes in again it's to savour the scent of his Sir's sex, the sharp clean smell of fresh semen. He lies there, marked in so many ways, utterly owned.

"You are so fucking beautiful," Antony murmurs, drinking in the sight before dropping forward onto one hand, head dipped down for a kiss. "My beautiful boy."

Wrapping his hand around the back of his lover's neck, Stephen pulls him closer, holding Antony there. "Always call me that..." he murmurs, before capturing his Sir's lips in a deeply passionate kiss.


End file.
